A Warrior's Noose
by Memory in Crimson
Summary: Seven years have passed since the Buu incident. Gohan is married, a father, and a success at the university. He begins to tutor a teenager, who dreams of becoming a great fighter, but the young man carries a dark secret...


A Warrior's Noose

By Danners

**Chapter 1** Meet your new student, Son! The boy with strange energy...

"Hey Son! Can I run something by you?"

The young graduate glanced up from his chaotic desk to his superior. She was a half-Hindu woman, whose trademark characteristics were dyed-green hair and large, gold earrings, always jingling beneath her ears. Despite her unconventional looks and often unconventional speech, she commanded respect from her academic peers, and Gohan Son was no exception.

"What is it, Miss Arithme?" he asked as he supported a precarious tower of papers.

With her hand on her cocked hip, the woman replied: "I found a gig for you as a tutor. Some kids aren't doing so hot in their math classes, and their school is supposed to have one of the more prestigious math and science records."

Gohan grunted beneath the wavering tower. "You mean, Blue Pentacle Intermediate?" he queried, and with a shove, the stack of papers leaned back and stood straight. Gohan sighed and wiped his brow.

"Ah!" The young man jumped when an unexpected hand touched his shoulder. Fortunately, the tower did not so much as quiver, and he crept delicately from his desk. Arithme snickered.

"You're gonna be tackling one kid in particular," she continued. "I dunno who he is yet, but you need to head down there this afternoon around 1:30. You need to meet with the kid and his advisor and schedule what times you're available to tutor."

"Oh! That's fine," he said as he cleaned his glasses and replaced them on his face. "By the way, how do you know he's a he?"

Arithme smirked and cocked her head, her earrings swinging and jingling. "That's true, Son. I don't know. Maybe it's some cute, little fourteen-year-old Lolita with short skirts, looking for a Humbert to whisk her off her delicate feet, and put you on your wife's hit list."

Gohan immediately flushed, his glasses slipping down his face. For one who had grown up in a very adult world, and very quickly at that, he had not actually caught on to the lewder features of life. His was the life of combat, not... well... sex.

After clearing his throat, the young graduate said, "Don't even joke about that sort of thing, Arithme. That type of conduct is truly reprehensible. It's wholly unethical."

The woman's face darkened as she replied, "You've got that right, Son. So if he turns out to be a she—or maybe he is a he, and there's something you're hiding—I don't know! But whatever the kid is, we'd better not receive any complaints about any untoward moves on your part. This university had trouble about twenty-five years ago with that type of conduct, and we can't afford to deal with it again. We're one of the top in the country—nay, the _world_, and we don't need to associated with dirty, ol' lechers!"

Then she huffed and smiled. "But don't worry! I sure won't. You're such a damned prude, Son, it's a wonder you got married and had a kid at all. You put some priests to shame!"

Gohan sighed and shook his head. Then Arithme turned and strode to the door.

"Just make sure you arrive on time, Son. You certainly aren't the most punctual person I know," she noted. "We don't wanna hear about that either."

"As if tardiness is a graver offense than molestation," scoffed Gohan.

"Humph!" Arithme scoffed back and, with nothing more to say, departed, shutting the door gently...

... perhaps not enough. The precarious stack of papers wobbled and inevitably tumbled, as did other stacks. Gohan groaned and cursed beneath his breath, spending the rest of his morning reorganizing his documents.

Unfortunately, he had so many to reorganize that he lost track of time. By the time 1:15 rolled around, the chaos had been tamed. Thanks to his otherworldly speed, he accomplished the task faster than ordinary, pure-blooded humans. The office looked better than it ever had, but if he were to arrive to the meeting on time, Gohan would have to choose to use his emergency plan. So with great reluctance, the half-breed snuck off to a quiet patio near his office and flew with all mustered speed.

Luckily for him, he knew exactly how to get to Blue Pentacle Intermediate. He had visited it with his mother in his youth and again when he first attended the university. When he landed in the parking lot, he did have a bit of sprucing up to do, and his unruly, Saiyan-influenced hair refused to obey his hand.

"Damn it," he murmured as he passed through the halls.

Once he gained some command of his appearance—and stopped huffing and puffing—Gohan marched to the main office. One of the kindly secretaries directed him to the advisors' offices with only seconds to spare.

"Ah! Mr. Son, good afternoon," chirped the red-haired counselor as he stood and bowed.

Gohan stopped at the threshold and also bowed. He could automatically tell that the advisor was a patient man, one who did not measure the very seconds in which one needed to arrive. Nevertheless, the young graduate said, "Good afternoon, sir. I apologize for being so late"—at which, the advisor chuckled. "My hover car gave out on me before I could even leave the university. I should have phoned you ahead."

"I completely understand," replied the smiling advisor. "Please, take a seat!"

The young man bowed his head and set aside his brief case. He plopped comfortably in the cushioned seat before him.

"I'm Mr. Guide, one of eight advisors at Blue Pentacle Intermediate," began the red-haired man. "I've also done some counseling at our sister school, the more visual and performing arts-inclined Crimson Pentacle. Gives me a better idea of what students are better orientated toward what, you see. And this young man, right beside you," he said as he gestured toward the lad, "is Mr. Kujabou Yuwak."

Gohan smiled and glanced at the student. He frowned when he received nothing but a face of shame.

The young lad looked no older than twelve years old, possibly thirteen or fourteen. He had Persian beige skin and long, bushy—albeit not unruly—hair, as dark purple as the night sky and bound back by a scarlet ribbon. Through the lad's pure sea blue eyes, Gohan detected a glimmer of self-disappointment and, from his energy, extreme discomfort.

When Mr. Guide cleared his throat purposefully, Kujabou finally spoke, albeit quietly: "Good afternoon, Mr. Son."

Gohan looked at his advisor, who frowned sadly and said, "Mr. Yuwak has been stumbling in his trigonometry class. His growing lack of confidence has affected his grade, not only in that class but others. The help that his professor tries to give him is met with Mr. Yuwak's... mmm, frustration."

Then he smiled and glanced at the young man. "You're an otherwise bright boy, right, Mr. Yuwak?"

However, the lad narrowed his eyes, which to Gohan took on an ominous hue of storm blue-grey. The advisor shifted and coughed, clearly intimidated by this lad, until Kujabou averted his gaze.

"He is brilliant, Mr. Son," said Mr. Guide. "He's a keen reader, a masterful writer, and a heartfelt poet. We've made the recommendation to his parents that he transfer to the Crimson Pentacle for that reason. It's not that he can't learn mathematics, but that's not how he's inclined. But," he sighed, "the Yuwaks want him here. They believe that since he already has the literary knack, he ought to focus on something else, something more, in their words, 'practical.'

"This, of course, comes at the expense of what is natural to him. And I fear that kind of pressure, however well-meaning, could prove more detrimental along the road, especially for a young man his age."

Gohan hummed contemplatively. While Mr. Guide had been going on about Kujabou's plight, Gohan kept glancing at Kujabou, whose back had been turned almost completely toward him. At one point, the young man had noticed his sympathetic gaze. In return, Kujabou had turned his head and shot a contemptuous glare at the graduate. Then the lad sat properly in his chair and began to eye him.

Suddenly the half-breed detect a change in the boy's energy. _Really _detected a change. He seemed to be challenging Gohan, as if he totally distrusted him from the get-go. Then his energy changed again, as if he had suddenly developed interest in Gohan, and he turned swiveled his seat toward him and... smirked.

_Okay..._ Gohan raised an eyebrow, his eyes wide with confusion. _I can see why Mr. Guide thinks this kid is a bit creepy._

Once Mr. Guide had finished talking, Kujabou finally spoke up:

"Mr. Son, I can't help but try to recall, but... have I seen you before? I mean, really seen you?"

Gohan cocked his head. "Well, I am fairly well-known. I am Mr. Satan's son-in-law."

The lad grinned. "I fear that I do not pay much attention to the... Satanic cult."

Mr. Guide frowned gravely, but Kujabou continued: "I am quite certain that I have seen you in places less sordid than the tabloids. Tell me, Mr. Son, have you ever fought in any martial arts tournaments?"

Gohan blinked and glanced at the advisor, who merely shrugged. Gohan had not fought in any major tournaments since his daughter had been born. How could the lad recognize him?

"A few times, yes," answered Gohan. "I've been in the Tenkaichi Budokai once." Not to mention, the Cell Games and the Gyousan Tournament, but the kid was too young to remember either of those.

Still smirking like a cat that had just spotted a caged canary, Kujabou crossed his legs and asked, "Pardon me, what is your _full_ name?"

"Gohan Son," he replied, instantly kindling lights in the boy's eyes. The lad shifted, like a cat that had just snatched the canary from the cage, and chuckled.

"I have heard of you!"

Gohan looked quite taken by surprise, of course.

"You must be quite the fighter," continued Kujabou, "being the son and grandson of the greatest fighters the earth has known. I mean, you are the son of Goku Son, correct? It cannot be some mere coincidence."

The half-breed blinked rapidly in astounding. "I... I am. But the media usually overlooks that part of my family. How did you—"

"My grandfather has told me many tales," said Kujabou, "of the great tournaments before the... Satan phenomenon; tales of fighters with otherworldly powers, able to conquer beasts, such as the great demon Piccolo."

Incredible! Hardly anyone on earth remembered his father or Piccolo or any of the great fighters passed. People doubted the awe-inspiring power of his friends, as well as his enemies, and if Videl herself had not flown in public, people would have continued to doubt the possibility of that. Of course, the public chalked that ability to up Mr. Satan, who still barely managed to get two inches off the ground without faltering.

Gohan did not mind the anonymity, though. Of course, he did not mind that some people out there knew what he could really do.

"You aren't lying," said Gohan, leaning back in his chair and smiling wide. "You really, really believe!"

Kujabou tittered and replied, "Why not? This world is full of otherworldly happenings, some that happen in broad daylight. Yet so many in the world have forgotten or, more insultingly, outright deny. People deny reality for farces like the Afroed sideshow act—"

"Mr. Yuwak!"

The boy's good humor immediately melted from his face. His dark countenance whipped toward Mr. Guide as the red-head reprimanded him:

"Mr. Yuwak, you have quite the audacity! Not only have you insulted this man's family member right in his face, but you have slandered a worldwide hero."

_He is right about the farce part, though, _thought Gohan, but he kept that to himself, of course.

"Besides," continued Mr. Guide, "you should be interested in Mr. Son's merit as a math tutor, not a martial arts sensei. This young man is highly regarded by his university for his dedication, not only to his studies but to passing knowledge on to others, others such as you, who apparently take some things for granted. You should have respect for him, since he is taking the time to assist you in a one-on-one situation, and you do him a great disservice to insult his family. Now apologize!"

The black expression did not so easily vanish from Kujabou's face—or energy for that matter. Gohan sensed a familiar trembling, one associated with defiance and rage. Eventually Kujabou snorted and mumbled, "Sorry..."

Mr. Guide leaned far back in his chair and heaved a sigh. "That's another thing, Mr. Son," he began. "Yuwak tends to be rather confrontational. His trigonometry professor and all his peers have complained. Few people are keen on his sour attitude—"

"That's because I'm not keen on adolescent stupidity, whether one is thirteen or thirty," snapped the boy.

"Yuwak, you are walking on the thin edge of the knife! One word, one peep more, and I will send you straight to your assistant principal."

Kujabou's chair snapped back as he rose. "Then if that is how it must be, then so be it!" And he turned and marched to the door.

"Now wait—wait just a darn second!" cried Gohan, and the combatants immediately stared at him. For a moment, he was rendered speechless and flushed. Then he turned to the advisor and said, "Mr. Guide, we shouldn't just stifle him like this. I mean..." He gesticulated as he looked for the right words. "... he is who he is for a reason, right? Behavior doesn't arise out of a mere vacuum."

The boy and his advisor glanced at one another before looking at Gohan again. Then Kujabou smirked and withdrew his hand from the knob, listening carefully to the young tutor:

"Look, I've dealt with fellows like Kujabou"—_who seems to have a bit of Vegeta complex_, he noted to himself. "I'm familiar with this kind of behavior, and I'm willing to get to the root of it. If that takes the entire semester—an entire school _year_, then so be it. But I'm not just going to send him off to be disciplined and have him come back even worse. Please, if you give him a chance, then that's giving me a chance."

Mr. Guide leaned forward and stroked his red goatee. He hummed contemplatively. "I don't know, Son..."

Gohan rounded quickly and gazed into Kujabou's eyes. The lad continued to smile at him, and his energy had become more at ease. Then Gohan said, "Kujabou, do you really want to become better at math?"

"Certainly," he replied, white teeth gleaming.

"If I ask you, are you willing to change any habits, your attitude, anything that is inhibiting your ability to work better and just be better in general?"

Kujabou nodded emphatically. "Yes, I wouldn't have it any other way."

The graduate nodded and gently pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger. "All right, then. Now if you would please sit back down, I'd like to hammer out the details of your tutoring."

The lad cocked his hip and sauntered back to his chair. From the moment he sat, Kujabou's enamored stare never left Gohan, even when Gohan was addressing Mr. Guide.

"When is the most appropriate time to meet with Kujabou?" he asked the redhead.

"Classes go from Monday to Friday, with a half-day on Saturday. Yuwak meets with his trigonometry class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

"So Tuesday, Thursday, and the weekend are fine?" asked Gohan.

"Indeed," replied Kujabou. "Tuesday and Thursday are short days for me. They go from 8 in the morning to 1 in the afternoon, so any time after that is perfect for me."

"And where will I be tutoring you?"

"My home, of course. My family lives outside of the city, and the traffic after three or four is quite a nightmare, of course."

"Of course," said Gohan.

"So how is anything between three and eight for you?"

"Three thirty to five thirty sounds perfect!" chirped Gohan. "And what about your Saturdays?"

Kujabou frowned and bowed his head. "I still need to work that out. Family issues, you understand."

Gohan smiled warmly. "I understand. Just let Mr. Guide know, or me when we start tutoring, if any other availabilities pop up. I'll leave my contact information from the university with you, so if you need an emergency cram session—or there's _anything_ you want to talk about—just shoot me a message, and I'll get to you as fast as I can."

"You truly are something else, Mr. Son," replied Kujabou. "I'm very certain this will not be a disappointment for either of us."

"Here, here!" marked Mr. Guide, and he rose from his chair. "Mr. Son, it was a pleasure having you here. A little more bumpy for my taste, but I hope you won't hold it against us—"

"Not at all," replied Gohan as he too rose, and he shook hands with Mr. Guide. "And please forgive me if I don't give timely updates on Kujabou's process."

"No trouble at all," said Mr. Guide. "Unless something has gone completely awry, I'll let Kujabou's grades speak for themselves."

Then the two men bowed, and Gohan picked up his brief case. He turned and waved good-bye to Kujabou.

"I'll see you this coming Tuesday!" said Gohan.

"Mmm! I look eagerly upon it," marked Kujabou, and Gohan left the student behind with his advisor.

As soon as Gohan stepped into the hallways, he sighed in relief. What a strange child he was, he thought. First of all, he had somehow picked up on Gohan's respectable heritage. Most kids his age—and many men older than him—admired Mr. Satan, no matter how absurd he really was. If he really did have a grandfather, it seemed amazing that he would believe him without question. After all, Kujabou was... well, not a brat. He was far too calculating to be bratty, but he was arrogant, a definite match for Vegeta as far as that was concerned.

_Then again, he and Vegeta are pretty smart_, thought Gohan, _and they get pretty frustrated when they think everyone else is an idiot._ Then the half-breed chuckled at a certain possibility: _Perhaps Vegeta's been with more than one woman? He's loyal, but he's not that loyal._

Heck, if Kujabou were a half-breed, that would have explained the strange energy fluctuations that Gohan had sensed. Sure, he could sense normal humans with their humble energy, and he could automatically decipher a person's emotional state or change of it. But Kujabou's energy seemed stronger than most humans, as if he were projecting it.

As in consciously, not some fluke of his body. Truly consciously controlling it -

"Mr. Son?"

"Ah!" The half-breed rounded and was greeted by the demure face of young Yuwak. Gohan sighed, hand on his heart, as he asked, "Kujabou, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be heading back to class?"

The lad averted his gaze for a moment and then said, "I believe this is of slightly... more pressing importance than the dissection of the elements."

"Oh?" Gohan cocked his head and crossed his arms as best he could with his suit case still in hand. "Do tell."

"I wanted to _privately _discuss the matter of Saturdays with you."

Gohan cocked his head, his eyebrows knitting with concern. _Must be something very serious going on_, he thought and leaned closer.

"Please, shall we walk?" asked Kujabou, and Gohan smiled sympathetically. He extended a hand to Kujabou and replied, "Sure."

As they strolled quietly down the hall, Kujabou asked, "Mr. Son, are you still interested in the martial arts? Are you still practicing?"

The half-breed stopped in his tracks and blinked. "I beg pardon?"

"Hmm, hmm!" The youth glanced up and smiled at the tutor. His sea blue eyes glistened with the mischief of a sea nymph.

"Mr. Son, will you do me the great privilege of becoming my sensei?"

A dumb-founded look plastered itself on Gohan's countenance. "Your sensei?"

Kujabou nodded and began to walk again.

"I've always wanted to be a great fighter, Mr. Son. I do not want to imitate the mocking sideshow of morons today, but to be a truly great fighter. A _warrior_, Son, a true warrior, a man of honor who knows what true, heart-and-soul power is. Just like your father," he added.

"Oh sure, I've had _other_ trainers," he noted with disdain. "When my parents learned of my talent, they enrolled me in classes but in ignorance of to whom they sent me; disciples of your... father-in-law, Mr. Satan, who started a poisonous commercialization of the art. An _art_, Mr. Son, it is an art and therefore sacred. But he—oh, forgive me," he sighed, "he has turned it into something profane, and I? All I wish is to _learn_—to be truly enlightened. Six classes and two private, briefly experienced tutors in my life have done me no good, but you are my last hope, Son. You. My last hope."

Gohan gazed wide-eyed and stupefied. The kid really was different. He was like no other child he had encountered. Not even Trunks, when he had been a child, had ever spoken so eloquently or seemed so... well, wise as a child. He also seemed very sincere—not even, he was harshly candid about avoiding anything that was related to Satan's style of fighting.

_I don't blame him, though, _thought Gohan. _Between him and the Ginyu Special Forces, I can't decide who has showier or more ineffective and costly maneuvers._

"I'm sorry," Kujabou suddenly said as a moment of quiet passed. "I fear my insults may have been the ruin of me. Your in-law perhaps deserves a chance?"

"Oh please! No, don't feel too bad," said Gohan as he kneeled before him. "I mean, yes, between you and me, Mr. Satan is a total goofball fraud. He's strong, but it's more like he uses his fame to psych out opponents. You know, it's like the home team advantage, and his home team just happens to be almost the whole world," he said with a roll of the eyes. "But at heart, he is a good man. He has a strong sense of justice, and he truly cares about family. He's just more bombastic when it comes to martial arts."

"Will you at least considered training me?" asked Kujabou with soft, wide eyes.

Gohan frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... I just don't know, Kujabou. I mean... I'm really just supposed to—"

The boy pouted and marked, "Come now, Son, my mind needs an outlet for all the frustrations that I have suffered in this... place, conducive only to my stagnation. Martial arts is about focus, about reining in thoughts and emotions. What a perfect medium through which to vent! And a healthful mind also needs a healthful body, after all."

Gohan gulped and adjusted his collar. Then Kujabou extended his hand, which Gohan eyed in suspicion.

_It's not as if I'm doing anything wrong,_ thought Gohan. _It might be a good way to get to know him. Oh, but if Arithme catches on... What the hell am I supposed to do?_

Reluctantly, he extended a hand and shook. "Very well. I'll tutor you Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I'll train you Saturdays."

Kujabou smirked. "I'm very grateful, Mr. Son. You will not regret taking me on as your student."

Suddenly, a faint chill of dread crept up the back of Gohan's neck. The strange twinkling in Kujabou's eyes gave him an almost Faustian appearance.

But he was only a kid! thought Gohan. It was not as if he were some genocidal megalomaniac from space or an artificial entity, conjured by science or magick to spread havoc throughout the cosmos. He was only a kid...

... a very intelligent, very _eerie_ young man.

"How does three to five sound?" asked Gohan slowly.

"Perfect!"

"Shall we meet at your house or mine?"

Kujabou raised an eyebrow. "When last I checked, students visited the teachers in the martial arts. That is, if the students were dedicated to learning."

Gohan shrugged. "I come from a long line of _very_ unconventional masters, believe me. We can start out training near your home and alternate when we become more acquainted."

"Well then! I live in the East District 218."

"Really? That's quite a commute. Your parents really want the best for you, huh?"

The youth pouted and averted his gaze. Obviously that was the topic he needed to avoid, if he were to make any progress.

"Well, you're not too far for me," replied Gohan. "Okay. Just make sure you have all your materials for both classes. You won't need anything for training except the appropriate clothes. And I will be prompt and prepared, especially for martial arts, so I expect you to be also."

The youth nodded vigorously. With that, the young tutor smiled and picked up his brief case. He bowed and said, "I'll see you this Tuesday!"

Kujabou blinked as Gohan began to walk away. "What about Saturday?"

"_Next_ Saturday," said Gohan with a wave of his hand. "Take care in the mean time," and finally he departed from the school building.

As soon as he stepped out, he glanced over his shoulder, assured that this time, he had not been followed. The graduate sighed. The boy was a total mysterious. Gohan had sized his energy up and down, and not a trace of Saiyan was in him. So he definitely was not the result of any infidelity on the part of Vegeta—or heaven forbid, his own, naive father. Nothing was inhuman about him at all—atypical, yes. And that chill from that handshake—what was that all about?

"Oh come on, Gohan!" he insisted to himself. _You're making a big deal out of nothing! He's a strange kid, a bit on the creepy side, but he's nothing like anyone you've ever faced._

Eventually, Gohan shrugged off any ideas he was forming about Kujabou. He needed to focus on this job. He was going to be paid very well, first of all, but more importantly, this university was testing him. If he could not wrangle in one unruly child, how was he going to handle a pack of them? At least this one seemed reasonable enough. Most other adolescents would not easily show him respect. He acted like, admittedly and embarrassingly, a dork very often.

_No turning back now_, though Gohan, and he floated carefully into the air and flew back to the university.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The author, Danners, makes no claim over _Dragonball Z_ or any of the related series. The author receives nothing of monetary value for the writing or publication of this fanfiction story, which is written for pure entertainment.


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